Breathing
by VeelaChic
Summary: Reno-centric, One-shot. I was so excited I didn't have to go back to where I used to be, I didn't notice I was suffocating. See, that's the thing about the Turks. You go in, and you stop breathing. Rated for mild swearing.


Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII, unfortunately.

Reno-centric. Feedback welcome!

_Breathing_

I'm not very good at putting things together. Breaking things, now that's easy. I never had those stupid dumbass blocks that other kids had, Whatever. Growing up in Midgarian slums there wasn't really a point. Everyday was like breathing, something you do to stay alive.

Inhale, exhale.

Like a clock tick-tick-ticking by as time struggled forward. You wake up, pray to whatever god you believe in that no smartass teenagers broke into your house and took whatever shit you had left. Look around make sure you're even in your house, or that your mom's still there.

Inhale, exhale.

I guess that's why I was so jazzed that the Turks chose me. 'Said I had something special. I was special. Now I've never been exactly low in the self-esteem department, I was fifteen and I was all bright-eyed. This woman came to get me, 'said I had nice eyes. 'Said I would need them. And so we went along back to the Turk headquarters and I go all trained up and got the shit beaten out of me a few times. I was so excited I didn't have to go back and sleep in that hell-hole anymore, I didn't notice I was suffocating.

See that's the thing about the Turks. You go in and you stop breathing.

There's no need anymore, you can go by gasping for air for as long as you want. You get up every morning like you slept with a pillow over you mouth. You go to work, and you make someone's mother, father, daughter, son stop breathing. Doesn't matter, you've forgotten what it's like.

You drag yourself off to some bar, get piss-drunk and forget you even knew how to breathe once, maybe find someone to forget with you. It doesn't matter. You're life went tick-tick-ticking by and now it's stopped in the this twisted shit you can't get out of. I once asked Rude, I said Rude 'Why'd ya join the Turks buddy? Why'd you get mixed up in this shit?' Rude's a pretty smart-a-rific guy. And he didn't say anything, not that I expected anything more than the token Rude response to life - "...". But he took off his sunglasses, and I saw in his funny grey-blue-purple-whatever eyes that he was gasping too. Trying to find some air in this constricted life we lead.

Next day, I went out and bought my own pair of sunglasses.

This bitch told me I had nice eyes once, right before she suffocated me, right before she told me she was going to stuff my soul into a nice little cardboard box with no air holes. And so, just to spite her, I'd use my eyes to make chicks miserable. I'd come up to them and say all the crap that reached out to their poor self-esteem deprived lives and we'd edge toward the cliff and we'd fall down, down, down. Didn't matter to me, already stopped breathing.

'Laney told me one day I was going to meet a girl I really liked and then I'd be in trouble, then I'd feel what it was like to fall down, down, down. I asked her if maybe she'd like to get into some trouble with me and fall down? She told me I was "lewd". I think that means wiry but I'm not sure?

I wonder if Elena's stopped breathing yet. Probably. We all do eventually. So you drink your liquor to try and fill up that big old space inside of you that's useless now. You walk down the street and wonder if you just walked by your next mark. You wonder if maybe that's that guy you just knocked off's sister, or fiancée maybe? You wonder if maybe they've stopped breathing to.

Being in the Turks is like you've stopped breathing. Like you're no longer human. Just some robot who only knows how to aim, and shoot, and take lives. You start wishing that you remembered how to breathe, wishing you'd wake up wondering if your mom was still there, wishing you had blocks or something stupid you could build instead of tear down.

And when you wasted your time wishing, some glimmer of what used to be you're life would come through all the fuzzy stuff.

Inhale, exhale.

And while you become fascinated by the feeling of air pumping through your body, some new file would get thrown onto your desk about the next guy who wasn't allowed to breathe anymore.

And it wouldn't make a damned difference.

Being in the Turks is like you've stopped breathing.

* * *

First time I've ever written Reno, so I apologize if I missed the target a little. Feedback is welcome. Please review!

-Veela


End file.
